Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Antonella
The dream starts soft.
Warm fingers trailing up my thigh.
I shift on the mattress, pressing into the sensation. My body knows what it wants before my mind catches up. Heat pools low in my belly as those fingers climb higher. Teasing. Taking their time.
In the dream, I'm back in Bruno's room. His hands are on me, spreading my thighs apart with that commanding grip I've come to crave.
I moan softly. The sound feels distant. Muffled.
The fingers reach the edge of my underwear. Pause. Then slip beneath the fabric.
My hips roll forward. Seeking. Wanting.
One finger traces along my entrance. Testing. Finding me already wet.
"Bruno..." His name falls from my lips like a prayer.
The finger pushes inside.
My eyes fly open.
The room is dark. My room. Not Bruno's.
But the sensation doesn't stop.
I look down. Bruno sits in his wheelchair at the edge of my bed. His hand disappears beneath my blanket. Beneath my shorts.
His finger curls inside me.
"What—" I gasp, my body arching off the mattress. "What are you doing?"
Bruno's eyes gleam in the darkness. He has the look that says he's already decided what he wants and nothing will stop him from taking it.
"Why aren't you in my bed?"
His voice is rough. Demanding. Like I've committed some unforgivable offense by sleeping in my own room.
"Gianna is—" I try to form a coherent thought, but his finger moves deeper. My words dissolve into a whimper. "She's down the hall. I didn't want her to—"
Bruno adds a second finger.
I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. The stretch burns in the best way. My walls clench around him, greedy and desperate.
"You didn't want her to what?" Bruno's thumb finds my clit. Presses. Circles. "Hear you screaming my name?"
"Bruno—"
"Because that's going to happen regardless." He pumps his fingers slowly. Deliberately. "Whether you're in your bed or mine."
I grab the sheets. Twist them in my fists. My hips move on their own, riding his hand like I have no control over my own body.
Maybe I don't. Not when he touches me like this.
"I was sleeping," I manage. "You can't just—"
"Can't I?"
His fingers curl. Hit that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
I moan. Loud. Too loud.
Bruno's free hand clamps over my mouth.
"Quiet," he orders. "Unless you want your sister to hear."
I glare at him over his palm. He's the one who started this. He's the one who snuck into my room in the middle of the night and put his hands on me without warning.
But my body doesn't care about logic. My body only cares about the way his fingers move inside me. The way his thumb circles my clit with perfect pressure.
"You left me alone tonight." Bruno's voice drops lower. Darker. "I don't like sleeping alone anymore."
He missed me.
He couldn't sleep without me.
I reach up.
"Then come get me," I whisper. "Don't just—"
Bruno withdraws his fingers.
I whimper at the loss. Empty. Aching.
Before I can protest, his hands grip my ankles. He yanks me down the bed in one smooth motion, my back sliding across the sheets until my ass reaches the edge of the mattress.
"Bruno—"
He lifts my legs. Drapes them over his shoulders.
The position puts me completely open to him. My shorts are still pushed aside, my underwear soaked.
Bruno looks at me like I'm a feast and he's been starving for days.
"I've been thinking about this all night," he says. His breath ghosts over my inner thigh. "About how you taste. About the sounds you make when I put my mouth on you."
My whole body trembles. "We shouldn't—Gianna might—"
"Then you better stay quiet."
His tongue drags up my centre.
I slap a hand over my own mouth. The moan that escapes is muffled but still too loud. Still too desperate.
Bruno doesn't ease me into it. Doesn't tease or build slowly. He devours me.
His tongue pushes inside me. Tastes me. Withdraws. Then his lips close around my clit and he sucks.
My back arches off the bed. My thighs clamp around his head. I'm shaking, trembling, falling apart under his mouth.
"Bruno—" His name comes out broken. Pleading. "Please—"
He pulls back just enough to speak. "Please what?"
"Don't stop."
His laugh is dark. Satisfied. "I wasn't planning to."
His mouth returns to me. Hungrier than before. His tongue works my clit while two fingers push back inside, curling and stroking that spot that makes me see stars.
I'm going to scream. I know I am. There's no way to stay quiet when he touches me like this. When he eats me like I'm the only thing keeping him alive.
My hand finds his hair. Grips. Pulls.
Bruno groans against me. The vibration sends shockwaves through my entire body.
"That's it," he murmurs between licks. "Pull harder."
I do. I yank his hair like I'm trying to hurt him, and he responds by sucking my clit harder. By fucking me faster with his fingers. By making me feel things I didn't know were possible.
The pressure builds. Coils tight in my belly. I'm close. So close.
"Bruno—I'm going to—"
He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down.
Bruno
She comes apart on my tongue.
Her thighs clamp around my head. Her back arches off the mattress. The sound she makes is somewhere between a scream and a sob, muffled by her own hand pressed against her mouth.
I don't stop.
I keep licking. Keep sucking. Keep fucking her with my fingers while her walls clench and pulse around me.
Her body shakes. Trembles. Falls back against the sheets.
I pull my mouth away. Wipe my chin with the back of my hand.
She's panting. Chest heaving. Eyes glazed and unfocused.
Beautiful.
"Bruno..." Her voice is wrecked. Hoarse. "That was..."
"We're not done."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
I grip her thighs. Squeeze. "Stand up."
She blinks at me. Still dazed. Still trying to catch her breath.
"I can't feel my legs," she whispers.
"Stand up, Antonella."
Something in my voice cuts through her haze. She pushes herself up on shaky arms. Swings her legs over the side of the bed. Plants her feet on the floor.
She wobbles. Grabs the nightstand for support.
I watch her. Every movement. Every tremor. The way her chest rises and falls. The way her shorts hang crooked on her hips, still pushed aside from where I had my mouth on her.
"Take off your clothes."
Her throat bobs as she swallows. But she doesn't argue. Doesn't protest.
Her hands move to the hem of her tank top. She pulls it over her head in one motion. No bra underneath. Her breasts are perfect. Full. Nipples hard and begging to be touched.
I grip the armrests of my wheelchair. Force myself to stay still. To watch.
She hooks her thumbs in her shorts. Pushes them down along with her underwear. Steps out of them.
Naked.
Completely naked.
Standing in front of me like an offering.
"Come here."
She takes a step toward me.
"Turn around."
She pauses. "What?"
"Turn around. Back to me."
Understanding flickers across her face. Her cheeks flush. But she obeys. Turns until I'm staring at the curve of her spine. The swell of her ass. The dimples at the base of her back.
"Now sit."
She looks over her shoulder. "On your...?"
"On my lap." I reach down. Unzip my pants. Free myself. "On my cock."
Her breath catches. I see her throat work. See the way her thighs press together.
She backs toward me. Reaches behind her to grip my shoulders for balance. Her ass brushes against my thighs as she positions herself.
I grab her hips. Guide her down.
The tip of my cock presses against her entrance. She's soaked. Dripping. Ready.
But she's also tight. So fucking tight.
She sinks down an inch. Gasps. Stops.
"Take your time," I tell her. My voice comes out strained. Rough. "Let your body adjust."
She nods. Takes a breath. Sinks another inch.
I grit my teeth. The pressure is incredible. Her walls grip me like a vice. Like she's trying to milk me before I'm even fully inside her.
"Bruno—" Her voice breaks. "You're so—"
"I know." I squeeze her hips. "Keep going."
She does. Slowly. Inch by inch. Her body stretches around me. Accommodates me. Takes me deeper.
When she finally bottoms out, we both groan.
She's seated fully on my lap. My cock buried inside her. Her back pressed against my chest. Her head falling back against my shoulder.
I hold still. Every muscle in my body screaming to thrust. To take. To claim.
I press my lips to her shoulder. Taste the salt of her skin. Feel her pulse racing beneath my mouth.
"You feel incredible," I murmur against her neck. "So tight. So wet. Like you were made for me."
She shivers. Her walls clench around me.
"Bruno..."
"When you're ready." I bite her earlobe. "Fuck yourself on my cock."
She takes another breath. Then another.
Then she moves.
She lifts herself up. Just a few inches. Then drops back down.
We both moan.
"Again," I order.
She does it again. Lifts. Drops. Lifts. Drops.
Each time she takes me deeper. Each time her body opens more. Accepts more.
"That's it." I grip her hips harder. "Just like that."
She finds a rhythm. Slow at first. Careful. Testing.
But then something shifts.
Her movements become faster. Harder. More desperate.
She plants her feet on either side of my wheelchair. Uses the leverage to bounce on my cock. Her ass slaps against my thighs with each thrust. The sound fills the room. Obscene. Perfect.
"Fuck—" The word tears out of me. "Antonella—"
She doesn't slow down. If anything, she goes harder.
Her hands grip my knees for balance. Her head falls forward. Her hair cascades down her back, brushing against my chest.
I watch her. Watch the way her body moves. The way her spine curves. The way her ass swallows my cock over and over again.
She's fucking herself on me like her life depends on it. Like she's been starving for this. For me.
"Harder," I growl. "Take it harder."
She obeys. Slams herself down on me with enough force to make the wheelchair creak.
I reach around her. Find her breasts. Squeeze. Pinch her nipples between my fingers.
She cries out. Clamps a hand over her mouth.